


Bat Velasquez (or How He Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Moon)

by patron_saint_of_suburbia



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Acceptance, Werewolves, also a little saphael might be in there but that's up to how much i write about this, also i know nothing about ny outside of tv/movies, also this guy's fucking name is Bat, anyway, his name is bat can you believe it?, i just like bat's name, i'm just a simple southerner, i'm sure other characters will make an appearance but those are the main ones, learning how to be a werewolf, obviously since it hurts becoming a werewolf lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 11:07:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patron_saint_of_suburbia/pseuds/patron_saint_of_suburbia
Summary: I just binged season two of Shadowhunters and this was all written in ungodly hour of the morning. Also, I love minor characters because no one can argue with you about their personality because no one know much about them anyway.Also, this is a story about a new werewolf who learns to enjoy being a werewolf because he has new friends who can help him though it *throws peace sign*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> btw, I'm basing most of Bat's character on a friend. Also, the real inspiration of this story is coming from the spontaneous thought that this dude's name is "Bat" and can you imagine the amount of vampire puns Simon would make if he had the chance? Also, Batman.

Bat Velasquez’s week wasn’t off to a good start but, God, wasn’t that just typical. Mondays always biting him on the ass.

Or, in this case, scratching him on the chest.

Bat was never someone who had much experience with animals. He never had pets growing up in the suburbs outside Atlanta. He didn’t much care for petting zoos, or any zoos in general. Many of his friends had pet dogs, swearing up and down that their Beagle/Retriever/Chihuahua wouldn’t bite even though they eventually did. Birthdays, band practices, movie nights with his best friend in his basement. He’d always end up with welts and his blood would’ve been spilt. Not even cats gave him this much trouble. It was always the damn dogs.

And, God, Bat  _ hated _ dogs with a passion.

So, obviously, his luck would take a nosedive into the  _ fucking Mariana Trench. _

He should’ve remembered to not walk down shadowy back alleyways during the night, especially in a city he was new in, but the only thing on his mind was trying to find a bookstore for his classes at NYU. His new English professor was old and traditional, deadset on having all of his students buy his latest edition of this English book of his, all four hundred and fifty dollars of it. And Bat, smart guy like he was, spent his entire first week of New York seeing the sights instead of buying books, absolutely sure he could find his professor’s book online. Unfortunately, he wasn’t successful and his late night book hunting was off to an awful start.

And his phone’s GPS was crappy.

When the giant dog finally showed up, it didn’t immediately attack him. It seemed to eye him curiously, look him up and down. And, of course Bat would focus on that arbitrary detail than question what the fuck a huge dog was doing  wandering the streets of New York. Was that normal for New York, having massive fucking dogs and shit left to their own devices?

So, curious as he was, instead of running away, he just stared back. Like a batty idiot, as his Tía would say.

So, when the dog pounced and attacked him, he wasn’t even aware of the pain at first.

The first thing he was aware of was his screaming.

He didn’t even know he could make a sound that loud. He was quiet, always, and deliberately, out of harm’s way.

Maybe this was just the universe’s way of telling him that he could only avoid danger for so long?

If that was the case, than fuck the universe.

The dog’s claws tore into his shirt. The pain was blinding and warm liquid-- “Blood”, his brain sluggishly supplied-- poured onto his shirt. As the dog growled at him, underneath the pain and the screaming and all of the warm, warm blood, Bat remembered that he liked this shirt. And now his shirt was covered with fucking blood.

_ Mierda, mierda, mierda _ , he thought as the dog growled in his face. He wasn’t sure if dogs were typically that huge and menacing. There were some big dogs that attacked him, but they were never as big and menacing and scary as this.

_ I’m gonna die, _ he thought, panicked _. I’m gonna die.  _

He felt his hands shake and he heard his screams echo. 

He distantly heard footsteps, but he wasn’t paying attention.

_ I’m gonna die in a backalley on the streets of Manhattan _ , he thought.  _ I’m gonna die and I’m never gonna finish Star Trek. This is such bullshit. _

In the distance, Bat heard someone say, “Oh my God,” and the dog in front of him gave one last snarl before running away. Bart looked around, his head suddenly pounding him.

He saw a woman run towards him, another figure following behind her. The first thing he noticed was her hair. So big.

_ So full of secrets _ , his brain giving him a Mean Girls reference during his final moments on Earth.

_ This is such bullshit. _

“What just happened?” he asked the woman as she crouched beside him. His voice was hoarse and he was breathing so fast. Was he supposed to be breathing so fast? He knew that that he needed to calm down and take slower breaths, but he was dying so what good would that even do?

“What kind of dog was that?” he asked, looking around. The woman put a hand on his shoulder, a gesture he understood to be comforting but how much comfort could you give a dying man? He was shaking and looked down at his shirt. It was so warm and heavy and  _ red. _ “Oh! Oh, God! I don’t wanna die!”

The other figure moved towards him from the left and a offered, “You’re not gonna die, ok?”, but Bat didn’t see  _ him _ bleeding out onto the street. 

“We’re here to help you,” the woman said. Her voice sounded nice. Her hand gripped his shoulder in support. “What’s your name?”

“Um..” he began. He went through his head, trying to remember. He was so focused on the fact that he was dying that his name escaped. That freaked him out even more than he thought it would. “Bartholomew Velasquez,” he answered. His mouth felt dry and his face felt thick. He wheezed and the wall behind him dug into his back. “People call me Bat.”

“Ok, Bat,” the woman started. “Can you stand?”

_ Can I stand? _ he thought, incredulous.  _ I’m dying. _

Yet, groaning and shaking, his legs and feet moved although his brain screamed how futile this was. He was hurting, oh God he was hurting, and the scratches on his chest burned so much. It took everything he could to even breath and his breathing became more labored as he tried to get to his feet. 

The man beside him helped him up. Oddly, his grip felt cold, but while Bat might’ve inquired a little more about that at any other time, all his energy was put into getting to his feet. 

“We’ve gotta find the wolf that did this,” the man said. It seemed to be directed to the woman with all the hair.

_ Wolf? _ Bat wondered. 

“I already know,” the woman answered in muted anger. The anger didn’t seem to be directed at the man, but at the situation. Which was something that Bat would’ve vocally inquired about except for the fact that “wolf” was in his head and he genuinely wondered how unlucky he must be if he managed to be attacked by a wolf of all things. That was ridiculous.

His breath became more labored as the two gripped his arms and balanced Bat’s weight between the two of them. He tried to not think of himself as “dead weight”. He tried to not think of it as funny. He supposed that that was the infamous hysteria. 

Bat felt his feet drag on the ground and he tried to focus on staying awake. 

Apparently, he wasn’t that successful since, in between his blacking out, the woman would pinch his skin and insist that he keep his eyes open.

Didn’t she understand how hard that was?

He couldn’t remember how they got to the warehouse.  Was it a warehouse? He couldn’t tell. He saw that there were canoes and clothes and various other paraphernalia that he couldn’t pay close attention to. 

Bat was slowly and gently eased to a chair. It was comfy. The woman told the man something, maybe around the words of “I’ll be right back”, before she left and he was left alone with him. 

Bat felt so cold. His teeth chattered despite the heat he felt in his chest and on his face. His face felt hot and he didn’t know why.

“You’re gonna be alright,” the man said. Bat looked up at him, his vision going out of focus momentarily. The man gave a stiff smile which Bat felt was intended to be friendly. Maybe this good samaritan was just as worried as Bat was.

Well, maybe not  _ as _ worried. Bat was the one dying here.

The man placed a hand to Bat’s forehead and he frowned. “I’m no doctor, but that doesn’t feel good. You’re burning up.”

“You’re telling me,” Bat said, wincing as he tried to get in a more comfortable position.

“Ah, you probably shouldn’t do that. You might make this,” he made a grand hand waving gesture towards Bat’s chest. “Even worse, maybe. Maia just went to get some help. And food, maybe. Maybe not. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to eat after something like this. I’m not really sure how any of this works, to be honest.” He paused. “I’m Simon, by the way.”

Bat groaned in response. He wondered that the man, Simon, meant by “how any of this works”. What was “this” supposed to be?

When Maia came back, she walked towards him with a friendly smile and opened his shirt. She started applying something to it with a cloth. It didn’t sting or anything. It just felt cold. The pain didn’t really go away, but he just felt more numb. Hell, Bat wasn’t sure if it was the ointment numbing the pain or if it was the fact that he was getting closer to dying.

“How are you feeling?” a deep voice came.  Bat looked up. He hadn’t noticed someone walk in after Maia. 

_ How am I feeling? _ This guy wasn’t serious, was he? His chest was shredded and he was losing blood. 

“Not so good,” he said, gasping. Obviously. “Look, I appreciate you guys helping me, but I think I need stitches and definitely a rabies shot.” 

_ I’d rather die in hospital than in a warehouse. _

At their silence, he continued. “‘Shouldn’t I go to an ER?” 

Bat’s face was itchy. Of all times for his face to be itchy, this was the time. It was probably due to the dying blood on his face, but he was too tired and in too much pain to reach up and scratch it. And he couldn’t ask Maia to scratch it. That’d be weird.

“I just called the paramedics. They should be here soon,” the man answered.

_ How soon is “soon”? _ Bat wondered, but he nodded anyway. It wasn’t like he could control the speed of an ambulance. It wasn’t like he could stand up and walk to the nearest hospital. He wasn’t even sure where the nearest hospital was.

The man made a head motion at Simon and the two walked away to have their own private conversation, Bat guessed. It wasn’t every day that total strangers save someone from a monster wolf attack and he knew that if the tables were turned, he’d try to figure out what to do too.

Maia eventually stopped dabbing his chest and left to go talk with the other two. Bat figured that it would take too much energy to figure out what the hell they were discussing, so he didn’t even try to listen. He just focused on his breathing and staying awake. Which, oddly enough, as the minutes went by wasn’t that difficult to do.

He felt even more awake.

Even though he still felt tired.

Even near death experiences were complicated sometimes, he figured.

He heard them talking. They mostly sounded muddled, like an audible fog, so he only caught a few words. “Mundane” and “turn”. Simon sounded distressed and Maia sounded calm, or as calm as you could be if someone was dying in the same room as you. 

The other man, he wasn’t sure. Bat couldn’t tell. Then again, he wasn’t paying that much attention anyway.

He heard heavy footsteps that got slowly fainter. Someone had walked away.

He glanced to where the others were. The other man was gone and Simon and Maia stood. Simon was rocking slowly on his heels. Nerves, maybe?

Time felt weird and he wasn’t sure how much went by between the man leaving and now. His chest felt both warm and cold now, itchy as well with the drying blood. More blood kept coming from his wounds though and he got more worried.

“Where are the paramedics?” he asked aloud. Aside from the sounds of his labored breathing and the sticky awful sound coming from his chest, the building was quiet.

Simon stood far off, arms crossed. “They’re coming. They’re coming,” he assured him hurriedly. “But don’t worry, man. You look a lot… You’re looking… You’re looking better.”

_ I must look awful, then _ . Bat knew that if the guy was nervous, this couldn’t end well for him.

Maia said something, walking towards Simon. She held something in her hands and she and Simon started discussing something, but Bat couldn’t pay attention because he knew he was getting worse and he knew he was going to die and his chest was making such gross sounds.

Maia walked towards him holding something. Bat couldn’t tell what until she got closer. 

_ Handcuffs _ , he saw.

_ Handcuffs? _ he wondered.

The pain was getting worse and his chest felt like it was freezing and burning and he had no idea what to do. He groaned loudly against the back of the chair. As if that couldn’t get any worse, Maia grabbed his wrist and brought it towards the handcuff that she had latched around something.

He gasped in pain and was confused. But what else was new? “What are you doing?:

“Hey, I’m really sorry,” Maia said. And she did sound sorry, but that didn’t help anything. “But, what’s happening to you, it happened to me too ok?”

_ It’s not ok! _

“This is for your own good.”

_ THIS IS NOT OK! _

He helplessly looked at his restrained arm and felt like crying. There was no way this could possibly get worse.

“Is restraining him like this necessary?” he heard Simon ask.

“He’s turning, Simon,” said Maia.

Bat groaned in pain even louder.

“Can you kill the lights?” Maia asked, impatient. “It’s like sensory overload for wolves.”

_ Wolves. There’s that word again. _

“Did you just say “wolf”?” He was so confused and none of this was fair and did these guys understand this and why the hell was he in handcuffs? “What do you mean “a wolf”?” His voice started getting louder. “What’s happening?”

He saw Simon stare at him and Bat tried to communicate with his eyes to help him. Maia’s the one who put him in handcuffs, so maybe Simon’s the good guy. Was he the good kidnapper to her bad kidnapper?

Was this a kidnapping?

Were the paramedics even coming?

“Just do it!” Maia ordered. With that, Simon flicked the light off and while Bat’s eyes felt better (he hadn’t even noticed that they felt bad), he didn’t know what was going on, but that wasn’t new.

“Where’s the damn mouth guard?” Maia asked herself in frustration. She started walking away in an attempt to find it, Bat guessed.

_ Mouth guard? _

“What are you doing? What do you need?” asked Simon as he walked after her.

Bat started wheezing.

Maia came back holding a, a what, a stick? A rolling pin? It was long and round and why the hell did he need a mouth guard?

“It’s so he doesn’t bite his tongue off,” Maia said, placing it in his mouth.

_ WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? _

“Does this seriously happen?” Simon asked.

Bat bit around the “mouth guard”. He desperately wanted to know what was going on. What was going to happen to him. God, he was so scared.

So scared he started growling.

_ Growling? _

He bit through the wooden stick pole thing and it fell to the floor and he continued to growl and his thoughts started to become less coherent and he just wanted Out.

He knew the two were speaking, but he could barely understand them.

His face was in pain and it cracked and broke and reformed and hurt like hell. It hurt so much and it wouldn’t stop.

Then it was his fingers. Then it was his teeth. Then it was his nose. 

He didn’t notice the handcuff breaking.

Everything  _ hurt. _

Everything was  _ red. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that Teen Wolf scene when Scott is getting all his new senses and just hears all types of stuff? I'm not sure if that applies to the Shadowhunter werewolves, but whatever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short because it's more of an intro for the third chapter and yeah. I'm not totally sure if I'm getting Maia and Simon right, as far as characterization goes, but I'm just going for it lol. One day, i'll go back and edit this.

The next morning, Bat eventually came to three conclusions.

The first was this: he wasn’t dead. Just in a lot of pain.

This would’ve struck him as miraculous if it weren’t for other details. 

Which brought him to his second conclusion: Everything was smelly, and noisy, and bright.

He could hear them talking outside.

Forget that. Bat could hear  _ everything _ . He could hear the sounds of birds flying outside. He could hear the sounds of people arguing on the phone. He could hear the sound of a trash-can knocked over on the street and the sound of someone cursing shortly afterwards. There was so much to hear. The feeling faintly reminded him of when he was practically dragged to a Foo Fighters concert with his older cousins and it was so loud that afterwards, when they started driving home, he could still hear the ringing in his ears. It was like that now, except the ringing was just the constant noise of stuff he could hear.

_ Cacophony _ , his thought, his brain supplying an SAT  vocab words absolutely unprompted. Because, of course his mind would wander to something like the SAT in a situation like this.

Bat was pretty sure that the people talking outside were the same people from last night.

_ But what are they talking about, “paddle-boats”? “Ducks”? _

Hopefully, if he could focus on what those people ( _ Maia and Simon _ , he reminded himself) were talking about outside, it could distract him from the utter chaos around him.

After he woke up to all the noise, he became flooded with smells. There was the smell of earthen smell of the wood. There was the sour smell of the old furniture, reminding him of something of a cross between old oranges and nutmeg. There was the smell of stale Doritos and Axe deodorant. Then, there was the smell coming from him, mostly just the salty scent of sweat and tears. Bat wasn’t totally sure how he was processing all of this.

But in this building, he mostly smelled Simon.

Not necessarily Simon himself, if he was perfectly honest. He couldn’t quite place it. But what he could smell was rusted iron. And he remembered that smell coming from Simon, albeit very faintly. 

_ Of all things to remember when I almost die, and I remember that. _

The worst thing about having identified the smell as Simon’s is that the entire warehouse shared that smell. It came from every corner and crevice, even the blanket that he was using to cover up his currently naked body as his shirt and jeans were ripped to sheds. So, maybe he was drawing too many conclusions way too quickly, but he was about eighty-five percent sure that he just wrecked all of Simon’s stuff. 

He genuinely felt bad about it because at least the guy had seemed nice.

Along with the sounds and the smells, everything he looked at seemed discernibly brighter. Or sharper? 

_ Clearer. That’s the word. _

He had never needed glasses before, but this was just ridiculous.

Interrupting his thoughts, a bright light spread across the room from the door. Bat suddenly had a memory of trying to break out. Last night when he was-- no, he wasn’t going to think about that.

Bat winced, the light hurting his eyes. Gasping, he pulled the blanket further over him and tried to make himself small in the area he was sitting in.

Two figures emerged from the light and the one with the hair-- Maia-- ran towards him. Her face was open, easy to read. Way easier to read than last night when she had just been calm.

That was, until he started to turn. 

_ Turn into a-- _

“This can’t be happening,” he said, looking at Maia. He didn’t want to think  _ that word _ . If he dwelt too long on it, it would just make everything seem more real. And he didn’t want any of this to be real. Bat grasped the blue blanket over him, clenching and unclenching his fists. He didn’t want to look down and acknowledge the raised pink claw scars on his chest because  _ he didn’t want this to be real _ .

“You’re not alone,” Maia said. She looked at Bat with her soft brown eyes and nodded. “I promise.”

Bat turned slightly to his left and looked up where he saw Simon standing behind him. Simon gives him a smile too. Just as nice and as friendly as Maia’s.

Unfortunately, “just as nice” wasn’t going to cut it. As far as Bat could figure, he was no longer panicking and no longer dying. He had somehow healed during last night’s ordeal. And he needed questions answered.

“What the hell happened to me?” Bat asked. “No bullshit.”

Maia’s eyebrows raised slightly and she gave a little smirk. “No bullshit, huh? Ok.” She opened her mouth as if to continue, but Bat could almost see a thought pass over her eyes. “Tell you what. Simon and I brought clothes and some food--”

“A lot of food,” Simon agreed.

Bat hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the word “food” was mentioned. Now, it took everything within him to not focus on how absolutely starved he was and try to remember what he wanted to say.

“So,” Maia continued. “After you get dressed, we’ll tell you everything you want to know over lunch. How’s that sound?” She smiled again as she got to her feet. 

“Can you just answer one question right now before lunch?” He paused. “Two questions?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not dying, right?”

“Nope. You’re not dying.”

“So,” he started. “Those paramedics…”

Maia gave an apologetic look before glancing at Simon, who shared one as well. “There were reasons we couldn’t do that, but I’m sorry we lied about it. Really.”

“Ok.” Bat would think about that later. “One other thing.”

“Shoot.”

“Am I, uh.” Bat took a deep breath, the memories of last night going through his head. The growls, the scratches, the disarray.  _ The moon.  _ “You know…”

“A werewolf.”

“What?”

“A werewolf,” Maia repeated. “You’re a werewolf.”

“Ok,” Bat heard himself say.

“Ok?”

“I mean, not “ok” ok, but “ok” now I know, you know? I don’t know.” He raised a shaking hand to his head, his fingers combing through his hair. It was greasy. “Whatever. Ok.”

“Ok,” Maia said slowly. “We’ll be just outside while you change.” At this, she grabbed a bag that she had previously set on the floor, flannel peaking out of the opening. Bat hadn’t noticed her putting it down. “I hope you and Simon can wear the same things. And like the same things.” She looked through the bag. “Simon packed these clothes. There’s a,” she took a moment to scoff. “There’s a Lord of the Rings shirt in here. Really, Simon?”

“Hey,” Simon raised his hands up in a surrender gesture. “The love for Lord of the Rings is universal.”

“Here you go,” she said. She handed the bag to Bat who held out his own hand. “We’ll be just outside. We’re not going anywhere.”

Bat nodded.

They walked away, whispering among themselves as they did. And as he started putting on the clothes, Bat came to his third conclusion: His younger sister wasn’t the only one in his family who was going to have a time of the month.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bat gets some new clothes and some answers (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in a McDonalds when I should've been studying Calc, but That's Life!!

Inside the bag was a shirt, flannel, a jacket, underwear still in the clear package, and jeans. The grey shirt with the image of the One Ring fit Bat well enough. He was never much of a flannel person, but he put on the green flannel because he figured it’d just be rude to ignore it. The jeans were long and the straight legs fell a few inches below his feet and he had to roll up the cuffs to make it fit. The jacket was brown and simple but warm.

As for the underwear, when Bat saw that he felt heat rise to his cheeks. He wondered if it was the right size. He snorted. He didn’t know if it was typical to need new underwear after turning into a wolf for the first time, but his old underwear, just like his other clothes, were ripped to shreds to. He was thankful for it, but it was still funny in an odd way.

_ If this weren’t happening to me, it’d be hilarious. _

After he put on all the clothes, he felt an urge to take a shower. His hair was still covered with sweat and oil and his fingernails were black underneath. He also needed to brush his teeth.

He also needed to contact his school and inquire about whether or not it’s too late to switch to off-campus housing because  _ this _ was something he didn’t want to have to explain to his roommate.

Bat groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I still don’t have my fucking books.”

_ Mierda, mierda, mierda. _

Bat looked for his torn clothes from the night before and balled them up before throwing them in the bag that the new clothes came from. Taking a deep breath, and praying that his luck didn’t get any worse, he walked towards the door where the others were waiting, bag of bloody clothes in one hand.

“Hey!” Maia turned towards him gave him a firm grip on his shoulder. She gave him a warm smile that now struck Bat as somewhat practiced. How many other people had she previously introduced to their new werewolf lives? “How’re you feeling now, Bat?”

“Uh,” he started. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m not dying, so that’s something.”

“You’ve got to admit that that’s a definite plus,” Simon agreed. His hands were doing some tapping rhythm against his thighs. “Believe it or not, but dying can actually lead to more problems than you think.”

“Huh,” Bat said, not sure how to answer. Remembering the disarray of the warehouse, he looked to the ground. “I think I wrecked all your stuff. I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s cool, man. It’s just stuff.” And, to Bat, it did seem like he was alright with it. But there was so much in that building that looked damaged beyond repair. “I don't even stay here that often.”

“But I broke  _ everything _ ,” Bat tried to explain.

“I understand,” Simon said.

“He understands,” Maia agreed.

“I don’t. Understand, that is.” Bat looked up and frowned at Maia. “I’m more confused than that time I tried to read  _ Finnegan’s Wake _ as a joke. And I was really confused then.” He paused to laugh a little. “This is like ten times that.”

“What’s  _ Finnegan’s Wake _ ?” asked Maia.

“A joke, I think,” answered Bat.

“Well, you did say you wanted answers,” Simon said. “And there’s a park across the street with benches and fresh air and Maia told me that you probably didn’t want to be in an enclosed space after last night.”

Bat thought about how he felt last night in that cloudy red haze of anger and fear and how his claws tried to rip open the walls. “Yeah,” he said finally.

“Park it is then.” Simon grinned and slapped Bat on the back in a joking manner as the three started to walk in the direction of the park.

“So,” Bat started. “Are both of you werewolves too?” 

Maia laughed and pointed to her neck where the scars of claws were. Bat had noticed them before, but he had met plenty of people with scars in his life and those people weren’t werewolves.

_ Unless they were? _

“ _ I _ am. Been one for some years now.  _ He _ ,” she pointed at Simon. “Isn’t.”

“What,” Bat said, glancing at Simon. “Are you human?”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up and he gave an even wider grin. “Dude, we’re not even at the park yet. That’s a loaded question. Even more loaded on account of some recent developments. I’m something of an enigma, y’know?”

“An enigma?” Maia said in a joking tone.

“I’m something of a cryptid among cryptids. C’mon Maia, don’t act like you don’t know.”

And as the park came into view, Bat wondered how much bigger his world had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my humble Georgian mind, Bat's a fellow Southerner because what is New Yorker?. He's in the Northeast to study and to branch out and he walked into Alladis.
> 
> Also, "Mierda, mierda, mierda" means "shit, shit, shit". Also also, I don't know Spanish well enough to write a lot of it (but I understand it enough to know what people are talking about?), so I'm not going to be writing a lot of Spanish even though Bat is Latino. I don't want to fuck it up too much. Whenever he does speak Spanish, it's really just going to be with his family or anyone else who speaks Spanish (since my Papaw speaks French but he only speaks French with other speakers, so). Also also also, "mierda, mierda, mierda" is copied, not from my friend (who I'm basing a lot of Bat's personality on), but on this kid who was in my Math class in the 11th grade (like he's always mutter it under his breath whenever he forgot anything lol).
> 
> That was a long note, but it's less of a note for y'all readers and more of a note for me to remember to do certain things!
> 
> Please comment tho!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Daily Double!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I have Simon and Maia's voices down yet, but the following dialogue is mostly how I ramble about things to myself. And, yeah.

“So, you’re a vampire?” Bat said. His fingers were red with hot wings and while his stomach was filled with wontons and spring rolls and jasmine rice and Rice Crispie Treats, he still was nowhere near full. “But… you’re like a special vampire.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, leaning back before he realized that park benches don’t have backs. His arms waved a little bit as he found his balance. “A Daylighter.”

Bat watched the sunlight reflect off of Simon’s brown eyes. “I don’t remember ever reading about that.”

“I’ve heard that I’m pretty rare, yeah.” He tapped his fingers against the wooden table in front of him. “Like, I didn’t even tell anyone about my updated Daylighter status and it seems like everyone knows before I’ve told them.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve told some people,” Maia said as she went through another bag of Slim Jims.

“I told a few people, not everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah,” Simon answered. “Werewolves, vampires, warlocks, the Seelies, the Shadowhunters.”

“Seelies?” asked Bat.

“Yeah, um,” Simon appeared to chew lip in thought. “Faeries. But scary. Scary Faeries. Less Tinkerbell and more White Witch from the Chronicles of Narnia.”

“Simon, that’s a Witch.” Maia mumbled around her Slim Jims. “That’s more like Warlocks. You’re thinking something along the lines of those Elves in Krampus.” She looked at Bat. “You ever seen Krampus?”

“No,” he answered.

“What about that Enchantress lady from Beauty and the Beast?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Isn’t the Enchantress more of Warlock though?” asked Simon.

“No, I’m pretty sure that she’s more like a Seelie,” said Maia.

“Huh,” Simon mused. “Bottom line is that they kind of freak me out and the Queen has ears everywhere apparently.”

“Like the trees in Narnia?” asked Bat, trying to put this all together. “Even some of the trees are on her side,” he recited from the movie.

“Yeah, that’s why I said the White Witch.”

Maia rolled her eyes.

“Also,” Simon continued. “They live for a very long time. I don’t know if they’re immortal, but maybe they are. They live in their own dimension and have magic and they can’t lie.”

“But they can twist the truth,” Maia added.

“What about Shadowhunters?” Bat asked. He opened another container of still-warm hot wings. “I’ve never heard about them.”

“They’re a trip,” Maia muttered.

“That’s not really an answer.”

Maia shrugged. “They are.” She sighed, putting down her Slim Jims. “How do I put this?” She paused, thinking for the right words. “They’re uptight.”

“Kind of stuck-up,” Simon elaborated.

“ _ Really _ stuck-up,” Maia emphasized.

It was Bat’s turn to say, “Huh,” this time.

“According to them, they’re like God’s gift to humanity. They have angel blood, so they can fight demons.”

“Oh,” Bat said, surprising himself with the fact that he understood something for once. “So, like Nephilim.”

There was a moment of silence between Maia and Simon. They looked at each other with confused glances. Maia broke the silence, asking, “How do you know that?”

“It’s in Genesis,” Bat answered. “It’s in the chapter where they talk about the Sons of God having relationships with Daughters of Men. Also, Catholic school.”

“Really?” Maia asked.

“Yeah,” Bat said, feeling a little better now that he understood something. “Are they big? Like, tall?”

“Some are tall, some are short,” said Maia. “Why?”

“Sometimes the Nephilim are translated to mean Giants.”

“Well, they’re no more giant than the average guy.”

“Oh.”

“Also, it might look like they have tattoos and stuff, but those are their runes. They’re magical and it gives them powers and stuff.” When she said “magical” and “powers and stuff”, Maia’s voice dripped with disdain.

_ I guess there’s some bad blood there. _

“But mundanes, or even Downworlders, can’t get runes or else they go crazy,” Maia added. “Because of the angel blood.”

“Downworlders?” Bat asked.

“Us,” said Maia. “Werewolves, vampires, fairies, and warlocks.”

“Oh my!” said Simon.

“What about ghosts?”

Maia furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Simon raised his hands and shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never seen one personally.”

“What about zombies?”

“That’s actually a very good question.” Simon folded his arms on the table. “Like, they’re risen dead. Vampires are risen dead. I’ll have to ask Jace about that.”

Bat wondered who Jace was.

“Why don’t you ask Clary?” asked Maia.

Bat wondered who Clary was.

“I feel like there’s a beautiful friendship between us in the making,” Simon answered. “Plus, he was raised around all that Shadowhunter stuff so he’ll probably know more about all those details than Clary.”

“What else about vampires?” Bat remembered what he had read about folklore. Who knew how it stood up to the real thing. “Aren’t vampires and werewolves, like, enemies and shit?”

At this, Maia and Simon laughed. Less like they were laughing at Bat and more at the idea. 

“Well,” Maia began, there’s some truth to it. When it comes to history, every group of Downworlder tends to be loyal to their own and not trust anyone else. Over the centuries, vampires and werewolves have had their conflicts. But, at the end of the day, Shadowhunters are the real pain in the ass.”

“Plus, vampires can have their own internal conflicts, just like werewolves. Heck,” Simon smirked. “For a time, I was public vampire enemy number one.”

“Really?” Bat asked, eyes widening.

“It was stressful as hell. Kill order on my head and everything,” Simon smiled. “But, hey. Legends only.”

It was Bat’s turn to laugh.

“I’m just saying. I’m just saying.”

“So, the sunlight thing is real?”

“That rule no longer applies to me, but, yes, that’s real.”

“What about the counting thing.”

“Counting thing?” asked Maia.

“He’s talking about the compulsion that vampires have to count things,” Simon said, looking at Maia. Looking back at Bat he answered, “And, no. I tested it myself. Speaking of which, I tested out a lot of things just to know what applied and what didn’t.”

“What about mirrors?” asked Bat.

“Silver’s not used in mirrors anymore, so yeah. I can use mirrors.”

“What about garlic?”

“I can’t eat it, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Do you have to be invited to enter a building?”

“Wow,” said Maia. “How much did you read about vampires?”

“How have you lived this long and not known how popular we are? And Raphael asked to enter my mom’s house, but I think that was a joke. Or just him being old and weirdly polite. Either, I don’t need an invitation”

“Raphael?”

“He’s this old vampire guy.”

“Can you shape shift?”

“I actually don’t know. We can wipe people’s memory though. I can’t, but it’s totally a thing.”

“Do you sleep in a coffin?”

“I used to sleep in a canoe. But sleeping in a coffin isn’t mandatory.”

“Can you go inside a church?”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’m Jewish. I can go inside, like, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, but I couldn’t go inside the Park East Synagogue, for example. As I get older, I’m told that it’s something I’ll be able to do. Like, eventually.”

“Oh. Well, how old are you?”

“I’m 18.”

“I thought vampires were old.”

“Vampires have got to start somewhere, dude.”

“I think that’s all the questions I have for vampires right now.”

“Nice. Awesome. Can I ask you some questions.”

“Uh, sure. I guess.”

_ What’s there to ask. _

“First of all, why “Bat”?”

“What do you mean?”

“He means like, why not call yourself Bart. That’s short for Bartholomew too, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. But, then people made jokes about the Simpsons when I used to go by Bart and I didn’t even like the Simpsons, so I figured that this was the way to go.”

“C’mon dude, your name is Bat. People are bound to make jokes about that, though,” said Simon. “Like, Batman.”

“The difference there is that I like Batman.”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah.”

“You mind if I call you Batman?”

Bat shrugged. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Sweet,” he pointed at himself. “Obviously, I’m Nightwing because my ass is spectacular.”

Maia, who had been drinking from a bottle of water, immediately choked and water spilled out her mouth. Simon let out a sound that Bat could only describe as a cackle. The chilly breeze blew and the sounds of dogs barking and children laughing filled the park. If Bat tried to ignore all of what had led up to this situation, he could almost pretend that he was just hanging out with two friends he met in the city. They would show him around the city and eventually, classes would start. He would study music and maybe get a job at the bookstore. His life would continue as normal.

_ God, I’ve got a hell of an imagination. _

“So,” he started. Simon’s laughter was dying down and Maia was wiping her mouth with a napkin. “There’s no going back, is there?” He didn’t care to elaborate.

Maia shook her head, resting her head in her hand. Without his needing to explain, she understood. “There isn’t. If I knew one, I definitely would’ve tried something.” She softly chuckled. “Hell, who knows how many werewolves have tried to become mundane again.”

“Mundane?”

“A “normal” human.” Maia made air quotes when she said “normal”. “But you have to remember that there’s pros and cons to every situation. You have to weigh it, Bat.” She held out both of her hands to illustrate a balance. “What’s something you’d put under the cons?”

“Um, maybe the massive scars on my chest.”

Maia lowered her left hand. “Yeah, but those are going to be last scars you ever get. We heal. You’ll never have to worry about even getting the common cold, much less cancer.” With this, she lowered her right hand.

“Really?”

“Really. Another con?”

“Everything’s so loud.” 

Maia lowered her left hand. “We have heightened senses. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. All you need to do is learn how to focus. It takes some time, but you won’t even notice eventually.” She lowered her right hand.

“I hate dogs.”

Simon gave a low whistle and Maia looked shocked. “How do you hate dogs?”

“I just do. And now, what? I’m like part dog?”

“I can’t believe you hate dogs. And, no, not necessarily.” Maia lowered her left hand. “Still, that’d be a con for you if you hate dogs.”

Bat nodded.

“However,” and Maia leveled him with a serious look. “Werewolves are part of a pack. Despite our past, nowadays packs are typically formed when members of other packs join together. Or, if mundanes give their consent to be turned. Sometimes, but it’s rare, werewolves can be born and grow up in a pack. And I’m so sorry that you were turned the way you were. That wasn’t fair to you and I understand how scared you must have been.”

_ How can you have any idea how I was feeling, _ Bat thought. But he didn’t dwell on it. After all, she was being very helpful and nice.

“Packs are loyal to each other. Packs help their own. But members of a pack aren’t always in the right. Russell, the guy who turned you, is probably going to approach you sooner or later. Just because he turned you doesn’t mean you have to listen to what he has to say. What he did was wrong. I know how you feel. Simon knows how you feel.”

Bat looked at Simon. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Simon said. Playing with his thumbs, an odd look passed over his eyes, like he was remembering something unpleasant. “Her name was Camille. She turned me. She would send me weird visions sometimes. And, yeah. She was awful.”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

Simon shrugged. “It’s cool.”

“So, Bat,” Maia continued. “Since I found you, I feel like the responsibility of helping you through this falls on me. Think of it as growing pains. And another pro.” She raised her right hand until it was the same level as her left.

“Like puberty?”

“Werewolf puberty,” Simon mused. “Sounds like the name of band.”

Bat allowed himself to give a small smile. “That’s, uh, that’s nice of you. Thanks, Maia. And thanks to both of you.” Before Maia could say something like “No Problem”, Bat had one last question.  
  
“How the hell am I gonna do this werewolf things  _ and _ college?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Idk much about Judaism (but I am interested in it and I'm gonna do some research on it in order to incorporate it into Simon's character), but I read that the Nephilim in the Bible are translated as the offspring of the Sons of God (translated as angels) and the Daughters of Men. However, in the Torah, the Sons of God aren't considered angels and are rather considered Sons of Judges (or something)? If anyone's Jewish and wants to correct this, please feel free in the comments, but this is what I saw, so yeah.
> 
> Also, as I was writing this and imagining Bat as a new college student, I didnt factor in the fact that it's winter according to this timeline, so he's entering the school for the winter semester. That's how you can do it at my school. Idk how NYU works with this and I'm already in too deep to rewrite this now. I'll go back and fix this up later.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't double checked this work so it's all here in its unedited glory. I'm so tired. Please leave a comment!


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